


Whatever Baby Wants

by splendid_splendont



Series: Baby [1]
Category: The Godfather (1972 1974 1990)
Genre: Everyone loves Michael, Gen, I COULDN'T HELP IT, I love these movies, What Was I Thinking?, even if connie is youngest, he's the baby, humor me, pre-moive, this idea just sort of stuck with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4511019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splendid_splendont/pseuds/splendid_splendont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone loves Michael Coreleone. His father can't seem to put the boy down when he's in the same room. His mother is constantly slipping him extra sweets, because he's so thin. His brother's aren't immune to his charm either. Somehow even his little sister feels the need to dote on little Mikey. But who could say no to a face like that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bellissimo Bambino

**Author's Note:**

> Fucking cookies and cream. No one asked for this shit. But here. I can't get this idea out of my head. And I can't sleep till its written, at least mostly so here. Take it. I recommend listening to Whatever Lola Wants by Sarah Vaughan. It explains the main idea of this fic. All the Italian phrases are/will be in italics. They shouldn't be hard to guess at but google translate if you really want the translation.

**Michael Corleone has always been the baby. At first no one questioned the strong desire to give and give and give to the angel faced little boy. The youngest child is always the baby, prized, protected and pampered. Then Connie was born and she was just as soft and quiet Michael had been as a newborn but the overwhelming urge to spoil the boy never waned. Even the Connie, the baby sister and youngest sibling, conceded to the angel faced Michael Francis Corleone.**

* * *

 

Summer in Brooklyn was muggy. The air was thick with smog and the Corleone boys found themselves stuffed inside their apartment during the worst of the heat while their father busied himself at the shop. Sonny kicked lazily at his brother from his spot sprawled on the lumpy couch until Fredo whined loudly to their mother.

 

“Mama! Sonny won’t stop touching me.” The smaller boy cried drowning out the people on the small television and Sonny kicked at his head again, harder this time sending Fredo face first into the carpet.

 

 

“Shut up! I’m trying to watch this.” Fredo pushed himself up on his hands looking at his brother with an expression caught between crying and anger before he shouted again.

 

“MAMA!”

 

“Boys, boys please. I’ve just got Michael…” Mama Corleone started to plead when the baby let out a piercing wail making even Sonny clamp his hands over his ears. “ _Ragazzi stupidi . Ho appena messo a dormere_.” The mother hissed, picking up her youngest child.

 

“Why does he cry so much?” Fredo groaned, his fingers pushed deep into his ears. He shot one last glare at Sonny and stomped into their shared bedroom, slamming the small door shut with a smack. The noise made the baby cry harder and Mama Corleone sighed loudly shushing the child. Sonny’s face twisted up in a scowl as his baby brother’s cries completely blocked all sound from the television set and he switched off the program with an angry kick. Seconds later the buzzer sounded, one then again and his mother turned to the door anxiously.

 

“Santino, come. Hold Michael I need to get the door.” The woman didn’t offer any chance at resistance, placing the screaming boy in Sonny’s arms and pushing him back into the kitchen. The eldest Corleone stared down at the red-faced infant quietly before cradling him in his arms.

 

“Shhh. _Bellissimo bambino._ Shhh.” The freckled boy whispered, rocking the dark haired child as he shuffled around the small kitchen. Michael squinted up at the face hovering above his and hiccupped his sobs. One tiny hand clutched at the stripped fabric of Sonny’s shirt and the older boy bounced on his feet.

 

“Shhh. Quiet, Baby.” Sonny pretended not to hear the arguing voices growing louder just on the other side of the wall and in his arms his brother whined. An angry shout had Sonny moving to the further corner of the room, curling Michael against his chest, muffling his noises.

 

There was a strange wet feeling suddenly and Michael’s whines stopped abruptly as the sticky feeling bloomed on Sonny’s shirt. Sonny’s nose wrinkled in confusion and he twisted the boy in his arms to see what it was. He prayed the boy didn’t throw up on him and glanced down at the damp circle right where Michael’s mouth had been. In his arms the dark haired baby writhed, whining growing louder again and hand still grasping at Sonny’s collar. Michael breathed quick upset pants; his dark eyes brimming with new unshed tears and Sonny quickly replaced his brother against his shirt. The youngest Corleone sucked a mouthful of his brother’s shirt into his toothless mouth snuffling against him and quieted, lying pliant and content in his arms.

 

That was how Mama Corleone found them twenty minutes later; Sonny slumped down against the side of the fridge with Michael cuddled to the boy’s chest holding tight to his shirt. Both boys dozed in the afternoon sun from the tiny window above the sink and Mama Corleone smiled at the sight.

 

The day progressed slowly after that. The sun sank low in the sky and Mama Corleone had to shake Sonny awake so dinner could be started before her husband came back home. Sonny stumbled bleary-eyed, with baby Michael still snoring softly against him, back to the couch. The heat had eased off the city and Fredo tripped over himself to dart outside before dinner, sticking his tongue out at his brothers as he raced out the door.

 

Papa Corleone wasn’t a loud man. His footsteps didn’t thunder on the floor when he walked and his voice didn’t seem to have an octave above a polite indoor speaking voice. The sky was dark by the time Papa Corleone opened the door, a tired looking Fredo at his heals, and came home. Sonny looked up from the slightly crumpled newspaper and his father smiled the slightest upward tilt of his mouth as he spotted Michael.

 

Papa Corleone greeted his wife with a kiss and reached for his youngest son. Michael grumbled at the sudden jostling movement as he woke being transferred to his father but relaxed instantly in man’s hold. Dinner was the quietest in the months since the youngest Corleone was born. Fredo babbled excitedly about the kids down the street who played tag with him and Papa Corleone nodded at the rapid-fire Italian his wife spoke in hushed tones.

 

Michael was handed back to Mama Corleone as her husband ruffled his sons’ hair and told them he would be back in an hour, closing door softly behind him. Minutes passed before the dark haired baby started crying again. His mother changed him, despite his weak kicking protests and Fredo turned the volume on the television loud enough that the neighbor banged on the wall. Still Michael wailed, loud and sad. Mama Corleone made up a bottle but the child clamped his mouth shut when she moved it close, screaming again when she moved it.

 

“Santino.” Sonny leaned back over the couch and looked at his mother and screaming brother. “Hold him while I put some honey in the milk.”

 

Michael pushed against Sonny, shaking his tiny dark head until he blinked. Dark brown eyes stared worriedly at Sonny’s own green as his small hand grabbed onto the older boy’s shirt again. His whimpers quieted again, soft but still upset as his mother fixed the bottle. Mama Corleone smiled softly at her sons once again as they stared at each other and pressed the warm milk into Sonny’s hand. Michael huffed at the bottle, sniffling like he might start to scream again but opened his mouth and latched on to it. The hand not twisted in Sonny’s shirt smacked flat against the bottle and the child blinked up at his brother wide-eyed.

 

“Hey Baby. I’m Sonny, your brother.”


	2. Mio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, the Italian is in italics. There isn't much so you can sort of guess but if you want word for word, Google Translate. I love this story too much already. Stupid Corleones.

[ ](http://imgur.com/OVogaPb)

Please enjoy this picture of Anthony Corelone who I imagine looks like baby Michael. (Not in this chapter though. He's a bit too old.)

* * *

 

 

 

Michael spoke his first word the day before Connie was born. The Corleone family had moved to a small house just outside the city at the announcement of a fourth child on the way. There was a small patch of grass offered as a backyard and there was no longer a worry of neighbors banging on the walls or dropping by unannounced.

 

The house was bustling with visitors offering homemade lasagna and tips on getting the little girl into the world as quickly as possible. Mama Corleone smiled gently at her family, reminding them that she had already been through the trials and pain with her other three children.

 

“Hey Ma! We’re going outside.” Sonny Corleone shouted over his shoulder as he slammed the door behind Fredo. The older Corleone boys hurried away from the house and down the street with Michael toddling on his little legs between them.

 

“They’re not gonna want a little kid to play baseball, Sonny.” Fredo grumbled as they stopped at the empty lot between a couple of the large homes. Children of varying ages kicked around the grassy lot playing and shouting at one another.

 

“So? He’s not going to play. Mikey can just sit in the grass and watch like you used to.” Sonny grinned shoving at his brother’s shoulder and Fredo stumbled to the side before returning his smile with full teeth. The smallest Corleone brother stared at his siblings with one thumb in his mouth without a word.

 

“Sonny! Fredo!” A voice called making two heads snap in the direction it came from. A boy just shorter than Sonny smiled at them with a gap of lost baby teeth. Behind him a few more boys wrestled and argued but glanced at the Corleone brothers. Fredo pat Sonny on the arm before racing away to catch up with a rowdy looking red haired boy. The boy with missing teeth nodded across the lot to where a small group of children were gathered with hand-me-down bats and gloves. “You good to pitch?”

 

“Yeah sure. Let me get Mikey with some of the girls.” Sonny tugged his brother along by his free hand and handed him off to a group of girls who cooed at him excitedly. Michael squinted his eyes as he watched Sonny run to the makeshift baseball mound. He batted away the hands pulling at his clothes and sat down hard in grass where he could watch the older boys.

 

One of the younger girls who’d never met the small boy plopped down beside Michael and fussed with his dark hair, playing with him like a babydoll. He ignored her still, sucking on his thumb and looking out across the lot as the boys ran and hollered in their game until she tried to move him into her lap. Michael wiggled in her grasp, pushing against her in refusal as she manhandled him. With a frustrated huff he removed his thumb and bit down on her arm with his tiny toddler teeth.

 

The girl shrieked, drawing the attention of the other girls. A few rushed over as the bitten girl scrambled away from the Corleone child. She sniffled; tears leaking from her eyes and let the older girls hug her and offer soft comforting pats. Michael didn’t even offer the girls any acknowledgement, simply popping his thumb back into his mouth and searching for his brothers with his eyes.

 

The girl he’d bitten glared at the small child, embarrassed and angry as he refused to even act sorry. She pushed off the hands holding hold and growled out a mad “Shut up!” when the others warned her not bother the boy again. The girl stomped back over to where Michael sat engrossed once again in the game the other children played and planted herself right in front of him.

 

“You should be sorry!” She snapped, pointing at him. “You can’t just bite people for no reason! I should tell your momma. I bet she’ll whoop you!” The girl crossed her arms over her chest and stared haughtily down at him for only a second before her smug grin fell.

 

Michael pinched his eyes tight in a child-sized glare. He wiped his thumb off on his shorts and looked up at the girl with a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. Before she could even open her mouth again the youngest Corleone screamed. The noise was like tires screeching on pavement. Michael wailed with the full-force of his small lungs and Sonny was at the scene in minutes.

 

The older boy knocked the now doe-eyed girl to the side and snatched his brother into his arms. He was a bit too big to be held properly against Sonny’s side but that didn’t stop the eldest Corleone. Sonny’s eyes were hard as he searched out the source for the little boy’s distress and Michael pointed a shaking hand at the girl with yellow braids as he sniffled. Fredo hurried over just in time to watched Sonny push the girl down hard with one hand.

 

“Don’t you ever touch my brother.” Sonny snarled, looming over her as Fredo pulled at his shirt. He kicked at the dirt in front of the girl making her jump in fright and his eyes dared anyone to say a word.

 

“Sonny. Sonny lets go home. Supper should be soon anyway.” Fredo hisses nervously. He pulled on Sonny’s arm hard and the older boy shook his head angrily.

 

“You can’t go around shoving girls.” The tall boy with missing teeth barked, crossing his arms in front of him and staring down the elder Corleone.

 

“ _Farò quello che mi piace_.” Sonny snarled. He lifted Michael higher against his side and looked back at the blonde girl. “And girls shouldn’t pick on babies.” Sonny’s lips pulled back across his teeth like a threatened animal and his freckles blurred into patches as he sneer at the other child.

 

He turned on his heel, stomping back across the lot without waiting to see if Fredo was following. Fredo was breathing hard as he chased down his siblings and he grabbed the back of Sonny’s shirt to stop him.

 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Fredo huffed out as his brother waited impatiently. “That girl might not have even done anything.” The middle boy reasoned. Sonny’s face pinched tight again and he started walking again.

 

“Mike doesn’t just go around screaming.” The older brother tossed over his shoulder and Fredo was silent the rest of the walk. Back at the Corleone house the air smelled of garlic and sugar. Sonny set Michael down on the steps and the boys pushed into the kitchen.

 

Relatives and friends bustled about the small space like bees filling the house with bilingual chatter and wonderful scents. Mama Corleone smiled from her spot in a chair by the table. Michael made an excited noise and toddled over to hug at her legs. She scooped up the boy, carefully holding him above the bump that was her daughter.

 

“Hey Mama.” Sonny resisted the urge to pull away when his mother kissed his cheeks and sat down beside her. There was smack and loud complaint from the kitchen and Fredo hurried out with a stern looking Aunt on his heels.

 

“Stay out, Frederico!” The stout woman warned, shaking a spatula at the boy and he ducked behind his mother, looking chided. Mama Corleone chuckled at her son and her sister frown. “Dinner will be ready at 7.” With that she stormed back into the chaos of the kitchen.

 

Friends trickled out of the house as the food was readied. Close family ushered people out with plates of spagetti and thanks. By the time Vito Corleone returned home the small house was back to its original occupancy, minus his wife’s mother. Genevea Benenati served filled plates of pasta and set the table with bread, ignoring her daughter’s protest. She smiled tightly at Papa Corleone and the man nodded politely her, taking Michael in his lap, as she sat next to Fredo.

 

The topic of the dinner table was a mishmash of conversations. Sonny relayed the half-finished game of baseball he pitched, with Fredo excitedly throwing in details of his almost homerun and slide to second base. Geneva nodded in the proper places, letting her grandson’s babble as Carmela murmured softly to her husband.

 

When dinner was finished the Benenati woman gathered up empty plates and the bread, shuffling it back into the kitchen. She swept in moments later with small plates of still warm tiramisu. Mama Corleone was served first, then her husband. Fredo held out his hands eagerly and his grandmother pat his head as she handed over the dessert.

 

Sonny took the last plate, licking his lips. Grandma Benenati pinched the oldest boy’s cheeks, crooning at his freckled face.

 

“ _Il mio bel ragazzo_.” Sonny batted the woman’s hand away, digging into his pastry but the world stopped.

 

“Mine!” A small, but authoritative voice shouted. Silverware clattered noisy against a plate as the family stopped to stare at the small child in Vito’s lap. Michael’s face was red and angry as he wriggled from his father’s grasp and down to the floor.

 

“Mikey?” Fredo coughed out through a mouthful tiramisu. The little boy ignored him in favor of stomping to Sonny’s chair. He raised his arms imperiously and his mother stared flabbergasted as the older boy maneuvered Michael into his arms. The youngest Corleone glared at his grandmother with unbreakable brown eyes and opened his mouth again.

 

“My Sonny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connie and Tom Hagen in the next chapter!! :D
> 
> Aslo if anyone was wondering, in my opinion Michael is a sociopath. Not a crazy person. Just emotionally detached, prone to violent outbursts and manipulative.

**Author's Note:**

> This should be a series. But the other parts (if the are written) will be smut and bad things so feel free to read this alone and ignore them. Or don't. Whatever floats your boat. Any smut will be Sonny/Tom/Michael in any or all combinations. Nothing with Connie or Fredo or their Dad. Yikes.


End file.
